


Unchained Melody

by CantStopImagining



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 03:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5728183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CantStopImagining/pseuds/CantStopImagining
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Delia, though nobody else has noticed, likes to sing. </p><p>(Or, Patsy Mount has a complicated relationship with music).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unchained Melody

**Author's Note:**

> I've done a bit of playing around with Patsy Mount's timeline, and I guess this is another of those fics. This time on the subject of music! My wonderful friend Cam (tracybering on tumblr) made a stunning gif set of all the moments Patsy and music have been linked, and I guess this is based on that. It's kind of a lot of head canons, based in a little fact?
> 
> I chose the title because it's the first piece of music that plays during Patsy's arrival at Nonnatus in season three, and I can't ever stop linking this pairing with Ghost. Oops.

1.

She gets a music box for her sixth birthday. It opens and plays a piece of music her mother fondly tells her is the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies. There’s a beautiful ballerina in the middle, turning on a tiny spring, but Patience is more charmed by the music than anything else.

When they’re taken from their homes and put into the prisoner of war camp, her mother hums the song under her breath, Patience tucked into the fold of her elbow, clutched close, her hand over her mother’s heartbeat. Elisabeth sobs, but Patience concentrates on the music.

The box gets destroyed. She watches as a soldier stamps on it and tosses it aside, and she cries so hard she thinks she might never stop.

Her mother continues to sing to her whenever she’s frightened. She has a beautiful singing voice, even when she’s singing so quietly it’s barely above a whisper, close to her daughter’s ear. Patience squeezes her eyes closed and imagines her mother dancing around their old ballroom, grinning from ear to ear. It calms her nightmares a little.

After her mother dies, she can’t bear to listen to music.

-

2.

In her second week, Patsy Mount manages to break three rules in one night:

1\. Smoking in her room  
2\. Drinking in her room  
3\. Listening to music after lights out

She loathes boarding school, and her only comfort comes from things she oughtn't be doing. She doesn’t see how it matters anyhow; she’s top of her classes, always attentive and always completes all of her school work to the highest standard. Why shouldn’t she be allowed a little recreational time after hours?

Still, the nuns do not see it that way, and she watches with dismay as Sister Mary Agatha snaps her 45 over her knee, and bans her and her roommate from tomorrow’s breakfast. She’s only glad she managed to conceal the smell of smoke, or her cigarettes would be gone too. The bottle of whiskey is hidden beneath her blankets.

“Your father will be hearing about this,” the Sister scorns, before slamming their bedroom door, and Patsy can’t help but scoff at the thought of her father caring enough to punish her.

As soon as Sister is gone, Patsy retrieves the whiskey, and holds it out to her roommate, who is far more wound up about missing breakfast than she is - a peace offering. She rolls her eyes but takes it, and Patsy tries to ignore the way her stomach flips when their fingers brush.

-

3.

Patsy documents little things about the people around her. She has always been quietly observant. It’s one of her best qualities, she thinks, her ability to remember useless facts about people. It makes birthday present buying a breeze. It’s especially handy when it comes to calming a patient down, to have topics at hand to talk to them about as a distraction whilst she takes their blood or cleans their wounds.

Sister looks at her watch constantly. This isn’t about being wary of how long things are taking, or accusing them of being late, or anything to do with time at all, actually. The other student nurses get antsy under her stare, but Patsy has watched her long enough to know it’s nothing more than a habit. Lots of the other nurses have them: Elsie’s knee shakes when she sits to write paperwork, and Rebecca plays with her wedding ring constantly. Agatha bites her lip whilst she’s reading.

Delia, though nobody else has noticed, likes to sing. Patsy catches her singing a non-distinct tune as she’s pressing her uniform in the morning. She sings along when they go out dancing, instead of concentrating on her steps. When they go to the pictures, Patsy can see her lips wrapping around the words, mouthing along to the music in the background, even though she’s sitting three seats away. If Patsy passes the bathroom on their floor and can hear a soft tune being sung through the door, she knows it’s Delia in the tub.

It’s part of what makes her so enchanting to Patsy. A small part, possibly, because lately every single thing Delia does is enchanting, but it’s what first draws her to her, the soft, rich voice she sings under her breath with when she thinks nobody is looking. She’s beautiful.

-

4.

The first place they go together, just the two of them, is a quiet tearoom down a back street. It’s beautiful and quaint inside, and Patsy only lightly flinches when she feels Delia’s hand slip into hers. They’ve become more intimate lately, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t nervous being with her in public. In fact, she’s terrified. _We’re just two friends, sharing a spot of lunch,_ she reminds herself. Delia tugs her towards the counter, and the way her face lights up as she eyes up the selection of cakes and biscuits makes Patsy’s heart flutter.

They sit in a corner and laugh over a pot of tea and biscuits, sharing stories from a long week of work. Delia’s fingers creep closer towards hers, and Patsy leans back in her seat, quickly pulling her hands into her lap. It isn’t that she doesn’t want to, more that she’s afraid.

A radio on the counter plays softly under the buzz of conversation, and Patsy’s ears prick up as the song changes.

“I love this one,” she says to Delia, and she’s not sure if she’s referring to the song, or the woman in front of her.

-

5.

In her room at Nonnatus, there’s a record player, and a larger stack of records than Patsy herself has ever owned. She sinks onto her bed, and Trixie slides a disc out of its cardboard and onto the player, one-handed, flicking cigarette ash with the other. It’s a practiced move, one filled with the fluidity of someone who’s done it countless times before. Patsy can’t help but smile as the room fills with music, any worries that she might have had about settling into this place disappearing immediately.

“You dance?” Trixie asks, holding a hand out to her.

Patsy grins, getting to her feet and taking the hand offered. They sway around the room to Peggy Lee, Trixie’s hand firm in Patsy’s, her hand at the base of her spine, cigarette still propped carefully between two fingers. Patsy lets her eyes drift closed, allows herself to imagine, just for a moment, that she’s dancing instead with Delia.

Trixie laughs, ducking out of her grasp and pouring them both a drink, holding one out to her with a smile, “I couldn’t imagine a better roommate,” she says, as they clink glasses, and Patsy can’t help but agree, even if a small part of her still longs to be back at the nurses’ station.

-

6.

Delia saunters away from the jukebox with a wicked expression on her face, and Patsy almost chokes on her drink when the opening bars fill the air.

“You remember?” Delia says, laughing.

“Of course I remember,” Patsy hisses. The image of that night, has been burned into her memory forever. She had even been a qualified nurse a week. After one too many drinks, off-key singing ‘Fever’ in the back of a taxi cab, Delia pressed tightly against her side. Not one of her proudest moments.

“I miss those days,” Delia says, wistfully, sitting down opposite her. She reaches for Patsy’s hands, links their fingers together. Patsy waits a moment before moving away.

They’re moving in together. This is the last time they’ll have to sit in a smokey cafe to be together. They’ll have a record player, and a stack of music to choose from, and they’ll dance around their own flat and not have to worry what anybody thinks. She will finally be able to let herself loose a little. She’s sure she hasn’t always been such a stifler for rules and regulations - in fact, this song proves it. It wasn’t that things were easier then - they weren’t - it’s just that she hadn’t so much to lose.

“I can’t wait until we live together,” she whispers, joining their hands once more.

Delia grins.

-

7.

It’s awfully anti-climatic. One moment she’s all moved out, the next she’s hurriedly bringing boxes back, and burying herself in the blankets of her old bed.

Anti-climatic possibly isn’t the word. It’s heartbreaking, if she thinks about it, which is why she doesn’t.

Trixie is thrilled to have her back. There’s a hint of something else about her, but Patsy is too far into her own thoughts to pay much attention to it. She does notice that when she pours herself a brandy, Trixie declines, which is unusual.

A couple of nights later, she returns to find Trixie sitting cross-legged on her bed, flicking through a mountain of records.

“What on earth are you doing?” Patsy asks, sinking heavily onto her own bed.

“A clear out,” Trixie says, with an almost faux breeziness, “these records have all sat here far too long. It’s about time some of them go,” she holds out a Perry Como with a pointed expression.

It’s only when she reaches to pour herself a drink that she realises the photographs over her bed - which she hadn’t yet gotten around to taking down - are gone. Trixie’s too. The dish at her bedside usually overflowing with an array of different coloured and sized bottles is now home only to her own single bottle of whiskey. Every corner of the room is spotless, all their odds and ends neatly cleaned away.

She doesn’t question it. Some people keep boxes under their bed, and keep quiet about things, and force themselves not to cry themselves to sleep at nights. Others, it seems, clean.

-

8.

She wakes to the sound of somebody singing, and for a moment it’s hard to shift the sleepiness out of her. She’s disorientated. When her senses finally become reliable again, she can’t help the smile that drifts over her lips.

Delia places a cup of coffee to the side of her, and kisses her forehead, continuing to sing as she pulls her uniform out of the closet, and starts to get changed.

Patsy sits up, and watches her, coffee cup in both hands. She thinks _this is all I ever wanted_ and can’t help but grin as she lifts her cup to her lips.

“Bravo!” she teases, once Delia’s finished, and the brunette chuckles, glancing over her shoulder at her, her cheeks turning pink.

“Do me up?”

Patsy places her drink down, and slides out of the bed. She pads over to Delia, kisses the side of her face, and reaches for the zip, revelling in the familiarity of it. Her hands used to shake. Now, she drags the zip up easily, and presses a soft kiss to the base of Delia’s neck.

“I missed you singing,” she says.

Delia flashes her a smirk, “you say that about everything.”

As she gathers her things and finishes her morning routine, Delia babbles about patients and nurses who Patsy doesn’t remember the names of, reminds her that her lunch is in the fridge, and that she simply must give Trixie and Barbara her love (’it’s been so long’ ‘it’s been two weeks!’), and Patsy watches her in awe. 

She still can’t quite believe she was granted a second chance.

“Deels?”

Delia looks up at her with a dimpled smile, “yes?”

“We never did get that dance,” Patsy muses.

Rolling her eyes, Delia sits down on the bed and reaches a hand to stroke Patsy’s jaw, “we have a record player now, Pats. We can dance any time.”


End file.
